


Everything Ends

by CavannaRose



Series: Critical Role Fics [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, I have a lot of emotions okay, M/M, Still dealing with the end of this show, dealing with death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 19:57:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14625939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavannaRose/pseuds/CavannaRose
Summary: Just some thoughts on the ends of our favourite heroes.





	Everything Ends

She was glad that she wouldn't be the last. Her heart was already breaking for want of those they had already lost.

None of them had expected the first to effect them so strongly, least of all her. By the time he was lost, their paths had already diverged. Perhaps if they had not found him... or if they had had time to mourn properly when they had, but they had been on a mission, and mourning was put on hold. The entire time they dealt with the ice dragon, things left unsaid hung in the eternal silence that would forever stand between them. It was hollow, and almost as if they didn't deserve to feel their sorrow. They had not checked up on him, and the recriminations were in the eyes of the winged companion who refused to stay with them. He was a reminder of what they had been.

The second loss was the worst. She had been sundered. Completely undone by the loss of her other half. How could she be whole without him? "Do not go far from me." She had begged him, but still he went. As long as they had been together, he had valued her life more than his. It was unthinkable, but how could she betray his memory by not being grateful? They had borrowed time together, long enough to hope, to think that this, too, they could overcome, but it was not to be. The others held her, kept her from following him into the abyss, but it was a near thing. He had been her world, and their sparkle of good humour.

The third was an angry thing, full of rage and retribution. A jealous blade in the night from one who wanted the title their gentle giant had earned. All they knew was his prowess in battle, they never cared for his soft heart or his desire to do better, to be better. They cared not what he had overcome for not just his chosen family, but himself as well. He deserved a hero's death, had wanted it, but it was stolen from him. She and those that remained of their strange little family stalked through the shadows, spirits of vengeance with a singular goal in mind. Even the cleric had no forgiveness for the perpetrator. He had been avenged, but they all felt hollow again. He had been their strength.

The fourth was a gloriously heroic end, one that he would have approved of. His automaton had brought them word in the form of yet another collection of tales. He had accomplished much in his life, lived the adventure he always wanted. His family honour had been restored, he had improved the lives of many. Though they mourned, it was not like the others. He had earned his end, and to dwell overlong in sorrow would be to dishonour the glory that he had attained, after seeking it so long. His death was a grand affair, filled with pomp and ceremony that would have pleased him to no end, and it made them all smile. Then after, it was quiet, just them and the man who had held his heart. He had been their breath of fresh wind, and even here he served that purpose for them.

The fifth... well, the fifth was holding her hand, his frail with an age that she had not yet reached. Still she loved him all the more in his frailty, his mind still quick, his eyes, dimmer now, than in their youth, still so full of love for her and their children. Grandchildren too. The fifth had been sadness, but no regrets. They'd had a lifetime together to make memories, and his face reflected in dozens of others that would comfort her as she patiently waited to join him. She mourned him deeply, visiting his grave every day, promising him that she would be ready when the time came for them to be together once more. He had left her better than he had found her. Lifted her up, and loved her for both her talents and her foibles. She hadn't been certain they would make it, but his faith in her, in them, it never wavered for a second. She had believed in him when he had needed it most, and he never stopped believing in her. He had been her second chance.

She was the sixth. After their own children had grandchildren, and even they had the beginnings of families of their own. She barely had the strength, but the others needed her. They still had so much time left. Hers was long anticipated relief, and pain for those left behind. She was going to rejoin her love, and her brother who she had lost so long before, but they would be left behind, in a world that remembered them less and less as time went by. She held the hand of the one who should have been her sister, amazed at how dignified she had become, and squeezed it tightly. "Do not withdraw. Stay with the world, despite the pain." They shared a final smile, and then she was gone.

Their merry band had dwindled, and those that remained had never been particularly close before. They were so different, the druid with the pure heart, and the bard with the dishonest past, but as they sat vigil for the small cleric who had been the heart of the group for so long, they clung close to one another. She watched as the bard's grown children offered him a place at their hearth, but his eyes begged the druid, and she relented. The cleric had been his moral compass, had made him better, and he needed the druid's goodness to give him strength.

She watched as eventually he, too, passed. Quietly, with only the druid at his side. His children had long forgotten him, busy on their own adventures, and he was glad. He squeezed the druid's hand, his face more serious than ever it had been before. "I'm sorry I couldn't stay longer." The druid wept lightly as the small hand dropped from her own and he was gone. He had been such a vibrant creature, full of songs and jokes, but at the end, after the cleric had passed, he was much more subdued. Quieter, more contemplative. He had left the druid with fond memories, scribbled notes scattered around her hut so that she would remember them all. He had been their memory, and he remained that for the druid.

Centuries passed, and she watched the druid as the druid watched their lines spread and flourish. Despite her duties, the druid always found time to keep tabs, though none remaining would remember her name. Quietly she guided them, helping where she could when her duties to her people permitted it. She was proud of their druid, and though it looked like she was alone when she became one with the tree, she was not, and several sets of hands reached out to greet her warmly.


End file.
